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Reality came charging back to pop the bubble of lust we were floating in. Stiffening, I shoved at his chest and jumped off the counter.
“Sydney––” he said, shaking the desire off his face. His gaze alert and unwavering. He took a step forward, and I automatically retreated two more.
Breathing hard, we stared at each other. “I knew you were immature and selfish, but I never, ever imagined you to be this…this shady.”
His shoulders fell and he briefly glanced away. It was as close to an apology as I’d ever get, indicating some level of genuine remorse but not nearly enough to appease me. Then again, I could be wrong. He’d fooled me one too many times already and I wasn’t about to give him another opportunity.
“Syd, wait––”
“I gave you every chance to back out…” I shook my head in disgust. “Who are you, Scott?”
I watched him pull it all back––the desire, the remorse. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, his features defaulting to neutral. “The man you blackmailed into marriage.”
I walked out of the bathroom, bid Jan goodbye as I exited the house overlooking the valley, and never once looked back when the Blackstone jet went wheels up two hours later.
Chapter Twelve
Scott
“How ’bout a burger?” Laurel shouted from behind her desk.
I barely heard her. I was much too busy staring blindly at the desktop computer screen in my office and thinking about my wife. At least, I hoped she was still my wife. She could very well have been filing divorce papers. My gaze slid to the iPhone resting on my desk. I owed her an apology. I picked it up, put it down. I’d been doing a lot of that lately.
“Scott! Burger?”
I hadn’t slept in ten days. Ten days that felt like a goddamn eternity. Remorse was a heavy weight to bear. I was practically suffocating under it. Moreover, my house was too quiet, it didn’t smell like freshly baked muffins, and there was no one waiting at home for me at the end of a long day. Even Jan was giving me the cold shoulder. The last made no sense and I made a mental note to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.
Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone without a word from her. Not even a text. I had no idea where or whom she’d spent them with and it bothered me, constantly nagging my conscience, a feeling which kept company with the restlessness that kicked in the moment Jimbo phoned to say the Blackstone jet was safely in the air.
Undermining her had been a crappy thing to do. With some distance, I could see it for what it was: petty and childish. Because, had my life changed for the worse? No, it hadn’t. My ego had taken the hit and it could sustain plenty without incurring any permanent damage. And she was right. It’s not like I hadn’t been given a choice. I could’ve turned my father down, let him sell off the land. And yet I hadn’t. Instead, I’d taken my frustration out on the one person who didn’t deserve it.
“Scott! You deaf? What do you want for lunch?”
I had no intention of apologizing for what had happened in the bathroom. Hell no. I wasn’t the only one swept up in the moment. Whatever was going on between us was definitely mutual. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. It had been that way from the start, since Devyn’s wedding all those years ago. It made even more sense now. We were two hard people constantly striking against each other. Sooner or later we were bound to cause a spark. All I could hope for was that I didn’t catch fire. She could deny it all she wanted but chemistry of that magnitude didn’t come around often and deserved to be explored. Now if I could only convince her of that.
My finger hovered over the messages icon.
“I swear if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were pining for her,” Laurel’s voice cut in. That brought my head up. I shot her my customary have you lost your mind look, and as usual, it did nothing other than encourage her to continue. “Oh my gee oh dee, are you?” A divot formed between Laurel’s brows. “I think you are.”
“He’s pining for her,” Ryan casually claimed while he dropped his ball cap on the coffee table and sank onto the couch. I hadn’t even heard him come in. He stuffed the last of the muffins Sydney had baked in his mouth while I struggled to contain a bout of possessiveness. “Damn, she can bake,” he muttered around a mouthful of my fucking muffin.
Twelve-year-old girls pined. I didn’t pine. “The only thing I’m pining for is some silence and employees that mind their own damn business.” I pointed to his face. “And those were for me.”
